Yes. That is my biggest struggle, too. In general, I struggle with the boundaries of tolerance. If I am in favor of tolerance (and I am), must I tolerate intolerance? Neither answer to that question satisfies me, which leads me to suspect that there's something wrong with the question itself.

I love this idea! And I'd love to explore it further.

I wholeheartedly agree!

Indeed! All of this! And I wonder about the shooter. What darkness was there? How can we help to shed light in those dark places?

A wonderful sentence that sums up so much!

I love this analogy too! It reminds me of a family story. When my mother was visiting my father's family for the first time, in a small Kentucky town, they were getting ready to to attend Sunday service at the local Church of Christ. "You'll get to hear Milly sing," my father said. "Oh," my mom asked, "Is she in the choir?" My dad, being a man of few words, just said, "No." Turns out, Milly was always a few words behind everyone else in the hymns. And she sang loudly, and with gusto. "He's got the whole world in his hands!" "...his hands!" "He's got the whole wide world in his hands!" ".... hands!" My mom got the giggles and glared at my father, who just smiled. Milly was odd. Her tempo was off. But she sang anyway, and her singing lives on.

Excellent! I'll send out an email to the group!

I would appreciate a midpoint meeting, and think it's a great idea! Would Sunday afternoon work? Maybe 2:00 at Dunkin' Doughnuts in Point?

Undisciplined smiling is great! :-)

Great observations! I agree that it's important to have a sort of "operational hope," a hope that helps us move forward. And I suspect you're right. Most people (i.e., people who aren't pathologically ethically impaired) probably do hope for a world where everyone is treated well. The complexity I perceive involves cashing out what the "treated well" amounts to because it's there that I see visions diverging. And, maybe ironically, that divergence gives me hope because it allows me to see people who work for causes I oppose (by trying to "reprogam" gay people, for example) as doing their best to do their best - as honestly trying to treat people well, however dangerously mistaken I think those efforts might be. If I can understand people I disagree with on one level as agreeing with me on another level, the possibility for conversation remains.

I, too, appreciate the insight that we often work out what we think in the process of thinking it. It's so important that we hold space for one another, to listen to each other in a way that helps everyone bring out wonderful things. I know that you have many, many wonderful things to say!!

Same for me!

I love those quotes, too! And I agree: I love to reflect slowly on Charleston's insights. They are so rich!

I love this too! Charleston encourages us to hope without denying the fullness of our experience.

How wonderful, Cynthia! And what an uncannily synchronistic connection between the chapter and your trip! When you return, we'll be eager to hear about everything you've done and learned!

I love this about Charleston, too!

I loved that quotation too!! It reminds me of the figure/ground distinction. I can think of reality as fundamentally bad and see the good as a temporary respite, or I can think of reality as fundamentally good and see the bad as temporary. To be honest, I think I'm naturally inclined to the former perspective, but ever since I realized that the other point of view was possible, and just as consistent with the evidence, I've tried to intentionally adopt it.

I love that quote too! And thank you for sharing your story! I'm fascinated by the question, "Why do bad things happen?" On a practical level, that's probably unanswerable because any answer might be psychologically ineffective or worse. To say that there's nothing to be gained by the bad things that happen to one, no justifying rationale, risks making life seem meaningless. But to say, "There is some good reason why this bad thing happened, something to be gained from it" risks making it sound like the bad thing *is* a good thing, as though the people who did the bad thing are somehow to be praised. I can't help but feel like there is always *something* to be gained, some way that the darkness, however dark, can make the light shine brighter, but in the face of specific, individual suffering, I feel only sorrow. Maybe that's what was going on when Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus. Jesus knew that there would be a resurrection - knew it with far more certainty than I know it - but that didn't make the sorrow go away.

I feel exactly the same way!

I love this insight, Carol! I'm especially interested in "being born into the reality of life on earth provides many opportunities for joy, as well as many incidents of hard times or darkness." It really does seem like being on the earth presents us with opportunities for growth that we might not otherwise have.